


Five Finger Fillet

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Challenges, F/M, Finger Sucking, Five finger fillet, Flirting, Flustered, Knives, Sexual Tension, Teasing, confident reader, flustered micah, like a tiny cut, on micah not u, super minor blood and gore warning, u good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: After pestering you for weeks for a game, you finally give in, challenging Micah, only to spend the whole time teasing the poor, flustered man.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader
Kudos: 66





	Five Finger Fillet

**Author's Note:**

> I could never play this game with him cause he's too fucking good and super distracting ;-;  
> I also really wanted to write some flustered Micah cause I'm super duper mushy for that idea >:) 
> 
> Tumblr and Twitter are @MALLR4TS

Micahs watching you yet again, and you're very aware of it. Every time you're playing five finger fillet, he'll manage to sit somewhere in view of you so he can watch just how well you play with a knife. 

He's seen how skilled you are with a blade. Twirling around like it's nothing, making Arthur bleed every time he competes against you, doing snazzy little tricks as you put it back in its holster.  
He's not even sure what he feels when he watches you... competitive? horny? maybe even jealous? He's eager to find out and hopefully wipe that smug grin off your face.

Micah's never had a game with you. No way. He never expected any women to be so good, maybe even... better than him? He shudders at the thought. He can't figure out how that makes him feel. Good and bad? Disappointed and jealous? Horny and somewhat submissive?

He's in awe that a WOMAN could be so damn... hot. Yep, Micah lets out a sigh as he decides that yes, the way you play with knives was so fucking hot. So fucking hot that he's now gorming at you again, his lips ever so slightly parted as he watches you play against Arthur, sitting at the table in Shady Belle. 

You're finishing off your round, Arthur muttering to himself, saying his usual stuff like "I ain't got no idea how you're so good at that." As you finish off your turn, you do a little trick, your eyes flicking across directly to Micah, not watching your blade but landing it perfectly. 

Micah feels a shiver go down his spine, his stomach feeling a little sickly and his heart thudding. You can see the shock in his eyes despite the distance between the two of you. You draw your attention back to Arthur who hadn't noticed your little glance over at Micah. 

"Dammit, beaten again," Arthur huffs. 

"Oh, you're gettin' there though!" You reassure him as you put your custom knife back in its holster. 

"By the time I get there, I won't have no fingers left," Arthur laughs as he puts his away, standing up from the table. 

"Maybe leave the knife play to the experts then," you tease, laughing along with Arthur as you stand up. 

"You're real cheeky, ain'tcha?" Arthur shakes his head. "Well, I gotta go huntin' before Pearson nags my ear off. I'll catch you later then," Arthur leaves you to it, making his way over to the horses. 

You say goodbye to Arthur, stretching as you'd been sat down for so long. Your eyes scan the camp, noticing that Micah had moved from the other table over to the campfire. He's reading a newspaper, or pretending to, as you catch him glancing over yet again. 

Tilly calls out your name, inviting you to join her and the others. They'd been sat over by the medical wagon, sewing and half-watching your game. You happily accept the offer, spending the rest of the evening having a gossip.

It's late. Most people are in bed at this hour but not you, you're a night owl who loves some peace and quiet during these darker hours. You're strolling around the camp, making your way to the back of the house so you can have a smoke. 

As you walk past the games table, Micah seems to appear out of nowhere.

"___!" He calls out, catching your attention as you walk past. Micah pulls out his knife, giving it a twirl then slamming it down on the table, challenging you to a game.

"Meh, maybe later," you shrug, completely ignoring him as you walk off, disappearing from his line of sight.

Micah sits there, mouth open, knife still stuck in the table. He's in awe that you just shrugged him off like nothing, along with being pretty frustrated that you'll always happily accept Javier and Arthur whenever they challenged you, rarely ever turning a game down.

Micah thinks you have a vendetta against him, when in reality you were just trying to wind him up. He grunts and stands up, putting the knife away and trudging over to the campfire.

This became a daily occurrence; Micah challenged you at least once a day for the next few weeks. He was pestering you, often making remarks on how you're "too scared to get beat."  
You always had a witty response up your sleeve, leaving him open-mouthed as you walked away. A lot of the camp members had picked up on this, often using it against Micah whenever he was annoying them. You'd overheard Uncle arguing with him once, Uncle saying "You can't say shit about me. Least I don't waste my time tryna challenge Miss ___ to a game of fillet. She'd wipe the floor with your sorry ass," as he laughed at the blonde man. Micah had huffed and walked away, seeing red.

Arthur once asked you why you always turned down Micah, adding that he "wasn't surprised. I wouldn't waste my time on that smug bastard either."  
You'd explained that you were just winding him up, making Arthur laugh. As much as he loved seeing Micah frustrated, he warned you that Micah might snap. 

And today he did.

"Miss ___!" Micah calls you out on this fine night. Most of the camp is asleep, apart from the usual bunch sat around the campfire. 

"Mister Bell?" You ask, picking up a beer from Pearsons wagon. You take off the cap, having a swig as you approach Micah. His knife is already dug into the table, looking up at you from his seat.

"You finally gonna have a game with me?" Micah asks, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Nah," you shake your head at the same time, having another sip.

Micah lets out a long groan before asking "And why is that?" 

"I don't wanna hurt you, Micah," you grin, watching him dip his head to hide his frustrated expression. 

"How are you gonna hurt me, darlin'?" Micah asks after letting out another groan, looking up at you. 

"Don't wanna hurt that fragile ego of yours. Must be hard for a man like you to get beat by a woman," you grin, leaning back against the table, sitting far too close to him. You overhear Uncle let out an 'ooooh!' in the distance, giving him a smile as he feeds off the drama. 

Micah takes a deep breath, his hands flexing as he tries to calm himself. You can't help but smile more, enjoying the sight of him falling apart over such a silly thing. 

"Miss ___," Micah slowly says, "You ain't gonna win, and my 'fragile ego' ain't gonna get hurt," Micah slowly replies, glaring up at you. 

"You know, Micah," you say as you put your beer down, picking up his knife off the table. Micah's watching you closely as you look over his blade, irritated that you're looking at it like it's a piece of trash. "I didn't know you were the submissive type," you smirk, finally finishing your sentence.

Micah's quick to his feet, snatching his knife off you as he groans. "What you mean?" Micah slowly asks, slurring his words as he frowns at you. He digs his knife back into the table, his hands leaning on the table as he watches you.

"You want your ass beat so bad, poor thing," you purr at him, giving his cheek a small pet before picking your bottle back up. 

"Are you trying to wind me up, doll?" Micah asks, his words slow yet again. 

"Yes," you bluntly reply, swigging your drink.

Micah's fuming! You were winding him up this whole time?! You cheeky bitch. He always knew you were but now that you've finally confirmed it, Micah blood is boiling. 

You watch him stand upright, taking a deep, slow breath. He shuts his eyes as he does this, opening them to see you smirking at him. His anger comes back from the sight of you. 

"I just want one game," Micah tells you, trying to hold it together.

"One game? Then you'll quit pesterin' me like the little lap dog you are?" you ask, shuffling your weight off the table as you go to sit down opposite him. 

"You're real good at windin' me up, I'll give you that," Micah says as he sits down. "Might have to learn a thing or two from you." 

You place your bottle down, taking out your knife and digging it into the table. Micah grins at the sight, finally being able to challenge you. 

"You might as well go first, seeing as you're so eager," you offer. Micah accepts your offer by picking up his knife and beginning. 

He's really good, you've gotta give the man credit. He flourishes a few times, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. Micah completes with 5 laps, not nipping his skin once.  
Micah has a smug grin on his face as he digs his knife back into the table, looking up at you, awaiting your turn. 

You give him a smile as you pick up your knife, having your turn. You don't flourish as much as Micah does, knowing that he's only doing that to show off. You also complete with 5 laps, not nipping your skin either. You were close to getting a 6th lap but you ran out of time, though you still view that at beating him. 

"Not bad," Micah 'compliments' you, picking up his knife and starting his next round. 

Micah is such a smug bastard. There's nothing wrong with having a little fun, is there?

You slowly stick your leg out, brushing it against Micah's. He's caught off guard, the point of his knife hitting his finger. 

"What the hell was that?" Micah grunts, clenching his fist, looking at the small cut. 

"I'm just gettin' comfortable," you tease, your leg brushing against his again. 

"You comfortable now? I'm gonna take my go again, seeing as someone distracted me," Micah huffs. You give him a nod. He starts over.

Micah completes with 6 laps this time, not nipping his skin again. He smugly digs the knife back into the table, his hands resting flat as he looks over at you, waiting for you to take your turn. 

"I ain't going easy on you anymore, Mister Bell," you tell him as you pick up your knife. Micah laughs, a smug expression covering his face. Micahs smug expression slowly fades as he watches you play, not missing a beat, flourishing like there's no tomorrow.  
By the end of your turn, he's embarrassed.

You beat him with 7 laps, twidling your knife as you dig it back into the table. 

"I told you I'd beat ya," you shrug, looking up at him. 

Micah has no idea how to talk to women, but he does know how to bluff out a few shitty compliments whilst he creeps around them. Or he did. You've left him speechless, a stuttering mess, and you can see him getting frustrated at himself for not being able to speak, nor win against you.

"I thought I cut off your fingers, not your tongue," you tease him, resting your head on hand, elbow propped on the table.

Micah CAN'T walk away, else that'll just mean you won. You already have won, but Micah won't admit defeat just yet. He lets out a grunt and a long sigh. 

"One more game?" Micah offers, gritting his teeth.

"You can't get enough of me, can you?" you purr. 

"I'll take that as a yes, doll." 

Micah grabs his knife, feeling a rush of emotions. A part of him understands now that this is how other people feel when he's acting smug towards them, and he hates it. 

Micah can't focus, his hand slightly trembling. He goes to start but stops, pausing for a moment and giving you an unsure glance. You're gazing over at him, the smug grin on your face getting bigger as you see his face go red.  
He looks down and starts, slower than usual. 

The blade nips him, making him grunt as he shakes the pain off. Micah swears under his breath, putting his hand back to try and continue, but he nips his skin again. 

You can see Micah getting ready to explode when the knife comes down a third time and accidentally nips against his index finger. Micah lets out a frustrated grunt followed by a long, deep sigh, trying to calm himself. He slams his knife into the table, letting out another huff.

"Awhhh, Micah," you sigh, sarcastically pouting at him. "Let me look," you say as you kneel on the crate you're sat on, leaning over the table to lift up his hand.  
You can see the cut, tiny thing, barely bleeding. Micah's watching you, extremely confused as to what's going on. Your eyes flick up to meet his as you open your mouth and slowly insert his finger, letting your soft lips and flat tongue brush over it. 

He tastes of dirt and blood, along with a very faint taste of gun oil. Micah's pupils go wide, a feral part of him coming out. You slowly pull his finger out, opening your mouth partly and sticking your tongue out as his finger slides down it. Micah leans forward a little bit; he wants to grin and laugh but he can't, his mouth remains parted as he hungrily watches you, his pants starting to rise, his cheeks turning red.

You slowly pop his finger out, pressing it gently against your lips as you speak.

"I've seen the way you watch me, Micah." 

He's taken back, his mind clearly fumbling for responses. Micah's rarely ever put on the spot but during the few times he is, he usually thinks of a witty response instantly. This isn't one of those times.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Miss..." Micah replies, instantly regretting his response as it made him sound so weak and timid. He wants to pin you down on this table and take you right here, but for some reason, that dominant instinct isn't kicking in.

"I didn't think it was true when other women say that the handsome ones were the biggest liars," you confidently reply. Micah's shook yet again, every part of his body aching for you. 

"Handsome?" Micah questions, hearing that word be used on him for the first time ever.

"Handsome, but not very talented," you joke before slowly licking up his finger. You watch Micah sigh, still frustrated he lost but far too distracted by you. "You gonna admit defeat?" 

"Ain't really defeat when I've got a pretty little thing sucking on my finger, is it?" Micah responds. 

"Fine," you reply, dropping his hand and getting up from your seat. "You let me know when you're ready to admit you got beat by a woman, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be ready to slide more than your finger inside of me." You give Micah a flirtatious glance as you speak, holstering your knife and walking away, heading around the back of the derelict house. 

"Now wait up just a damn minute!" Micah calls out, quick to his feet, fumbling to put his knife in his holster as he chases after you. "I ain't... you... you just..." Micah stumbles all over his words, walking beside you. He eventually stops you in your tracks by placing a gentle hand on your shoulders, holding you still so he can talk to you. 

"Sweetheart, you know you're far too good with that thing," Micah tells you as some form of compliment. 

"Admit defeat then," you reply.

"Fine, Miss," Micah takes his hands off you, holding them up in the air. "I admit defeat. You're better with a blade than old Micah here," he sighs. 

Finally. 

"Oh, darling, I know it. It's just so nice to hear you say it," you smirk, your expression making Micah furrow his brows.

"Don't get cocky," he grunts. 

"Of course not. There's already one cocky member in this gang, and it ain't me," you grin. 

"Real funny." Micah pauses for a moment, his eyes wandering down your body. "You wanna finish what you started?" Micah asks as he takes a step closer, one hand coming to gently rest around your waist, pulling you against him until his podgy stomach presses against yours. 

One of your hands comes to rest on Micahs shoulder, the other cupping his jawline, your thumb brushing over the somewhat soft bristles of Micahs beard. "Someone's been aching for me for far too long, haven't they?" you ask.

"You read me like a book, Miss," Micah tells you as his other hand wraps around your waist. "You ready to turn the page?" he asks. 

"You know..." you say, your hand moving to hold Micah by his chin, pulling his lips close to yours. Your thumb brushes over his scar, his nose bumping against yours, his eyes watching your mouth as you talk. "...I think this might be the end of a chapter, and it's healthy to take a break from readin' every once in a while. Don't wanna strain your eyes," you softly tell him, watching his face slowly drop. 

"What you talkin' about, doll?" Micah asks you. His question is soon answered as you let go of him, smirking from ear to ear. 

"I'll see you around, Mister Bell," you tell him, turning heel and heading back into camp. 

Micah wants to chase after you but he can't allow himself to come across as that desperate. "Dammit," you overhear Micah hiss under his breath, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he sighs to himself. "You better not keep me waiting forever, sweetheart," Micah calls out to you. 

You look over your shoulder, smirking as you see Micah in a flustered and frustrated state. Chaotic wasn't the right word to describe you, maybe down-right evil? Wicked? Sinful? 

Either way, Micah knows you're testing his patience. You've been toying with him for weeks. Maybe it's his turn to start toying with you?


End file.
